


The Dark Side of Winning

by Ely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Group Therapy, HP: EWE, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Horcruxes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Soul Bond, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely/pseuds/Ely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an evil is as strong as Voldemort, is it ever truly possible to escape it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unity

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while, but I've been sort of scared to write it because it's pretty intense. I'm not sure how regular updates will be.  
> Also, I've planned 31 chapters for this fic, but that may change. Tags will be updated as I go.

Harry stood on platform 9¾ next to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, saying goodbye to various Weasley’s before they boarded the Hogwarts Express from King’s Cross for the last time. Mrs Weasley was fussing tearfully over her two children, saying how proud she was of them both.

Naturally, Hermione had been the first to decide she would return to Hogwarts to complete her education. Ron had soon followed, deciding he needed to be distracted from the death of his brother. After Harry had been offered a position as Auror by Kingsley Shacklebolt, he had agreed that it wouldn’t feel right getting special treatment and getting a rather prestigious and sought after job without even taking his N.E.W.Ts. So the Golden Trio were to return to Hogwarts for their final year.

There had not been many years Harry had taken the Hogwarts Express without any trouble, and Harry wanted to make this year a year of normalcy and routine.

Now that his life was not laid out for him obsessively by others, he was free to make his own choices.

The four of them walked onto the train and were greeted by Luna Lovegood in the corridor.

“It’s so wonderful to see you all again!” she exclaimed in her sweet, childlike voice as she hugged them each in turn. She led them down the train in an attempt to find a compartment.

It seemed that many people in Harry’s year had returned to Hogwarts this year to finish their education properly. Harry had felt robbed of his final year at Hogwarts, and he supposed that the others must feel the same. As it turned out, Seamus Finnigan, with whom Harry had shared a dormitory for six years, had returned. He bounced over to them when he saw them. He had not grown over the summer, and although Harry was short, Seamus was far shorter. He reminded Harry of an excitable puppy.

“I’m so glad you’re all back,” he said happily, “I was worried I would be the only one in our dorm,”

“Is Dean not back too?” asked Hermione. Seamus’ face fell slightly at this, but he still managed to keep the smile on his face.

“No. He decided to get a job in Ollivander’s,” he said proudly.

“Really? I thought that was a family business?” asked Hermione

“It is, but Ollivander has no children so he’s training Dean to do the job instead,” Seamus explained.

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” piped up Luna, “It looks like most of the compartments are full,”

They continued walking and the number of people in the compartments thinned, and they eventually managed to find an empty one.

The train journey passed without issue, thankfully. Luna discussed her new theory to do with some kind of magical creature which burrowed itself into the skin of toads and frogs, causing them to grow extra legs.

Harry hoped the rest of the year would be this relaxed. Of course, everyone was strained, and most were grieving over the loss of someone four months ago in what had come to be known as the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione all now suffered excruciating nightmares as a result of PTSD, and Harry didn’t doubt for a second that most other students would be facing similar problems. Fortunately, Harry had managed to get some Dreamless Sleep Potion for him and his friends from a Healer at St Mungos, but he was only allowed to take it a maximum of three times a week, meaning the rest of the nights were left to chance. He would have completely ignored these rules if it hadn’t been for the enchantment the Healer had put on the bottle, meaning Harry couldn’t open it if he’d already used it three times in that week.

The six returning students made their way to the carriages, and he heard all of them but Luna gasp as they saw what was pulling them. The Thestrals were acting strangely, Harry thought. Clearly they were not used to having so much attention from students, and they did not seem to know how to react. This small change broke Harry’s heart. They _shouldn’t_ be getting so much attention. He wished no one had to see them.

“They’re so… strange,” said Hermione, sounded awed as she climbed into the carriage.

Finally, they reached the castle. It was clearly still being rebuilt after the war, but Harry was impressed at how much they’d managed to do in the four short months since the battle. They walked into the Great Hall, and the first thing Harry noticed was that the ceiling was just… ceiling. The enchantments which made it look like the night sky must have been destroyed, and they hadn’t got round to fixing it yet. Harry understood that an enchanted ceiling would not be a priority after the war, but he couldn’t help but feel… cold. As though a vital part of Hogwarts was missing.

“Look who decided to come back,” said Ron, in a low voice, pointing. Harry glanced over to where he was pointing – the Slytherin table.

The first thing Harry noticed about the Slytherin table is that there were noticeably fewer students than at any of the other tables. He knew of a few students whose parents had been Death Eaters, and so perhaps they had decided not to return for fear of their fellow students.

The second thing Harry noticed was the stark contrast of platinum blond hair among the dull colours of the rest of the students.

Draco Malfoy.

They sat at the Gryffindor table. Harry sat next to Ginny who laced her fingers through his and held onto his hand as though scared he might jump up and attack Malfoy. Harry knew he wouldn’t do that, though. In all honesty, he wasn’t completely sure where he stood with Malfoy. The last time they’d had any contact was when Harry had rescued him from Crabbe’s Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. He wasn’t sure why Malfoy had decided to return this year. After all, the wounds from the war were still fresh, and there was little chance that the rest of the school would suddenly be accepting of Slytherin House, let alone a former Death Eater. He could not understand why Malfoy would choose to return this year.

All Malfoy was doing was sitting, his back unnaturally straight, staring intently at the table. He was not bothering or threatening anyone, yet still, people refused to sit next to him.

All of a sudden the doors opened and the first years started walking into the hall. They looked around at all the tables, and Harry noticed how they definitely still looked awed by the grand decoration of the hall, but not quite as much as previous years when the ceiling was intact. Harry sighed sadly.

When they eventually reached the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall stood.

“As many of you well know, Hogwarts has faced a terrible tragedy which we are still trying to rebuild from,” Harry noticed how her usually stern, unwavering voice shook slightly with emotion. He felt a lump building in his throat. “In honour of those who sacrificed themselves, I will read a list of students and former students who fought for us to be sitting here today,”

Harry felt his throat close up as Professor McGonagall pulled out a piece roll of parchment which was _far too long_ and began reading the names.

Many he only vaguely recognised, but he felt himself glance over at Malfoy when she read “Vincent Crabbe”. He didn’t manage to watch his reaction before the name “Colin Creevey” was read out, and Harry stiffened and stared down at the table. He felt his fists clench on the name “Remus Lupin” as he tried to hold himself together, and at “Nymphadora Tonks” he could barely breathe. He felt Ginny shuddering beside him when the name “Fred Weasley” was read out, and he looked up to see tears in her eyes.

“We will remember them for their courage and strength, and honour their memory by treating each other kindly and helping create the world they died for,

“This year things are slightly different. Eighth Year has been opened to those who wished to return to complete their education, and they will be joining the Seventh Years in their classes. There are also Second Years who were unable to attend Hogwarts last year in need of Sorting, as well as First Years. These Second Years will join the current Second Years so they are with students of their own age, and there will be catch-up classes available for those in fear of being behind.

“As well as this, Healer Gibson has kindly agreed to stay in Hogwarts for those in need of emotional support,” she gestured to a short woman with a heart-shaped face and auburn ringlets falling down her back who had stood up at her introduction. As she sat back down, Professor McGonagall continued, “There will be mandatory group therapy sessions every fortnight for each year group. These will commence next week. The dates will be posted on you’re the noticeboard of your Common Room. Aside from the Eighth Years, as there are so few returning, the year groups will have a separate session for each House. There will also be the option for one-on-one sessions with Healer Gibson at a time which can be scheduled between you individually,”

Harry immediately decided that he didn’t want a one-on-one session. He could only imagine the way Healer Gibson would look at him after the things he told her. He couldn’t stand the idea of being treated as any more ‘special’ than he already was. No. He had Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He could handle it himself.

“Finally, we have two new members of staff this year. Professor Sloper, the new Transfiguration teacher,” a plump, balding, elderly man with a pinched face and oversized spectacles stood and waved awkwardly at the students as they clapped politely, before sitting down and allowing Professor McGonagall to continue, “And Professor Sparrow, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Deputy Head and Head of Gryffindor House,” A tall, slender woman dressed in a deep purple with dark skin and long, curly, black hair stood and waved elegantly at the students, accepting the applause before sitting back down. “We welcome them, and wish them all the best. And now, let the Sorting begin,”

Professor Flitwick stepped up to the front of the room and placed the tattered old Sorting Hat on a stool Harry had sat on a lifetime ago. All of a sudden, the Sorting Hat moved and opened its strange mouth. Harry heard the new students gasp in surprise as it began its song for this year.

 

_“A tragic time has passed,_

_And hate was at its height,_

_The horrors that you’ve faced_

_Would keep a hat up at night._

_But it’s important to love,_

_You must try and move on,_

_The hatred between houses,_

_Is cursed, barbaric and wrong._

_In your House you will find_

_Many people just like you,_

_But remember the importance_

_Of other friendships too._

_You may find yourself with the lions,_

_In Gryffindor, for the brave,_

_Many of them fought evil,_

_And all of you they saved._

_You might be with the badgers,_

_In Hufflepuff, for the kind,_

_They have a loyalty and will for justice,_

_For everyone to keep in mind._

_Or perhaps you’ll be with eagles,_

_In Ravenclaw, for the smart,_

_They fought the war alongside the rest,_

_And showed bravery in their hearts._

_Perhaps you’ll end up with the snakes,_

_But do not let Slytherin fool you,_

_They can also be brave, smart and kind,_

_And many helped us, too._

_It matters not which House you are,_

_For it is simply a name,_

_What matters are the friendships,_

_So that things may change!_

_Do not think all Gryffindors are reckless,_

_And do not think all Hufflepuffs weak,_

_Do not think all Ravenclaws boring,_

_And do not think a Slytherin a sneak._

_In times of change, you are the voice,_

_To create the unity,_

_And if you choose the right path,_

_Victorious, you all will be!”_

When the Sorting Hat concluded its song there was a moment of silence which had never happened after its song in the time Harry had been at Hogwarts. Everyone was staring at the hat, as though absorbing every last word it had sung.

After a few, dragging seconds, McGonagall began to clap slowly, and eventually the rest of the hall followed. The cheering grew in volume until it was deafening. It was the loudest anyone had ever cheered at the Sorting Hat’s song. It was a release for everyone, and Harry found himself screaming with the rest of them, standing along with his fellow students. People were cheering and crying and laughing, and the outpouring of emotions was, quite frankly, beautiful. It was as though over the past months, or even years, everyone had locked in their emotions in fear, and now, finally, after all this time it could finally be released and they could allow it to pour out of them. Harry found himself with tears running down his cheeks, and he pulled Ron into a tight embrace. In that moment, he was truly grateful to have such incredible friends, and he was so choked up with emotion he could barely breathe.

After what must have been five minutes, but felt like hours, the room began to settle down. Harry sat back on the bench at the Gryffindor table, wiping the tears from his cheeks, and looked up at Professor McGonagall who had tears in her eyes at such a raw display of emotion. Harry felt relieved after the outburst. He wasn’t grieving for the first time in a long time.

He absently glanced over to Draco Malfoy, who was sat with a stony expression on his face. Harry doubted his mask had dropped significantly throughout the entirety of that… that moment, and Harry didn’t blame him for wanting to keep a low profile.

Harry turned to Professor Flitwick, who had started reading out the names of the new students.

In all honesty, Harry had expected far fewer Slytherins this year due to the stigma associated with the house which was more intense this year than it probably ever had been. Again, he wondered why Malfoy would choose to return this year.

Once the sorting was over, the feast appeared in front of them, and Harry began piling his plate with food while contemplating the possible reasons Malfoy could have for returning. Maybe he thought he would not be able to get a job without his N.E.W.T qualifications? He couldn’t imagine there was much on the job market for an ex-Death Eater anyway, no matter what qualifications they may have. Why would Malfoy come back just to face abuse and judgement when he could just as well stay at home with his mother in their Manor drinking tea and complaining about Muggleborns? Actually, Harry didn’t know if Malfoy still lived in the Manor. Perhaps they had been kicked out after allowing Voldemort to stay there during the war? Harry probably should have kept up with the news, but he couldn’t bear reading page after page about how wonderful he was for defeating Voldemort, and details about the war that he just wanted to forget.

“Harry?” said Ginny, elbowing him to jerk him out of his thoughts, “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the table for the past five minutes,”

“I… yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, smiling at Ginny. He appreciated her care.

The feast finished, and the Prefects led the new students from the hall. Harry waited, and spotted Draco Malfoy hanging back and waiting at the back of the crowd. On a whim, he decided to talk to him.

“You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he murmured to his friends, and jumped towards Malfoy before they could respond. He skidded to a halt next to the tall, pale boy, who turned to face him. Harry was taken aback at the dead expression in his silvery-grey eyes. His cheeks were hollowed more than they used to be making his cheekbones jut out, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, he was even paler than he had been before.

“Come to torment me, Potter?” asked Malfoy, but his voice didn’t have the usual jeering kick to it.

“No,” said Harry, looking at him blankly, “No, I actually came to ask why you came back this year,”

“The same reason as you, I’d expect,” said Malfoy, and he began walking towards the door. Harry ran to catch up and walk next to him.

“And what would that be?” asked Harry.

“Why all the questions, Potter?” he asked, turning his head towards Harry. For a split second, Harry saw a spark of annoyance in Malfoy’s eyes. Perhaps he wasn’t a complete lost cause?

In that moment, Harry decided to make it his mission to get a reaction out of Malfoy. It wasn’t out of spite. It was more to do with him wanting to feel more… well, _alive_ again. Harry had felt empty all summer, and he realised that the challenge of Malfoy might be just what he needed to kick himself back into who he used to be.

“Maybe I’m just curious,” he shrugged. Malfoy sighed exasperatedly.

“Just because the Sorting Hat sang a song about unity and friendship, doesn’t mean we’re going to be friends all of a sudden,” Malfoy spat, and Harry noted triumphantly that the annoyance was beginning to seep into his voice.

“I know. I’m just trying to be _civil_ ,” said Harry as they both stepped out of the hall into the corridors.

“Whatever,” said Malfoy tiredly, before turning to head towards the Slytherin Common Room in the dungeons.

Harry jogged to the staircase which led to the Gryffindor Common Room, to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny had waited behind for him.

“Why were you talking to _Malfoy_?” Ron asked, spitting the name as though it were a disgusting taste in his mouth. Harry felt a hint of annoyance at the way Ron spoke about Malfoy.

“Ronald!” squealed Hermione, hitting him lightly on the arm, “Didn’t you listen to the Sorting Hat’s song? We have to try and make peace and be friends with the other houses,”

“Yeah, I know, but this is _Malfoy_ ,” Ron spat the name again, “He’s a git no matter what house he’s in,”

“So, why were you talking to him, Harry?” asked Ginny, interrupting the bickering as they began walking up the stairs.

Harry shrugged, “I just wanted to know why he came back this year,”

“Did he tell you?” asked Hermione curiously.

“No,” Harry shook his head, “He just insulted me and left,”

“I _told_ you,” said Ron. Hermione hit his arm again.

“At least you’re trying, Harry,” said Hermione kindly, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” said Harry, running his hand through his hair, realising that trying to be on decent terms with Malfoy was going to be harder than he thought, “I suppose so,”


	2. Growing Obsession

The next morning Harry woke. He wasn’t particularly well rested, but he hadn’t had any nightmares because he had decided to take the Dreamless Sleep Potion that night. He rolled over and found his glasses on his bedside table, putting them on, blinking slightly at the light before yawning widely.

Harry leaned down to the end of his bed and pulled out the Marauder’s Map from his trunk and opened it. His eyes immediately found their way to the Slytherin Common Room in the dungeons, and he spotted Malfoy’s name. He was in his dorm and he seemed to be pacing backwards and forwards from one end to the other. It was completely empty aside from Malfoy. Harry paused and thought for a moment. He realised he hadn’t actually seen any other Slytherins from their year group who had decided to return this year. Harry knew that Malfoy had shared a room with Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Crabbe and Goyle since first year. Obviously, Crabbe was now dead, and the other three guys must have decided not to return, because he hadn’t seen them. Harry knew that the four Slytherin girls in Harry’s year, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis hadn’t returned this year either. Was Malfoy completely alone in Eighth Year Slytherin?

Again, Harry questioned why he had decided to return at all. He honestly couldn’t produce any feasible explanation as he watched Malfoy’s name glide backwards and forwards in his room on the map. It was frustrating him to no end. Was Malfoy up to something? But what in Merlin’s name could he possibly be up to? Voldemort was totally and utterly gone, Lucius Malfoy had been sent to Azkaban, and Harry very much doubted that Narcissa Malfoy would put her son up to any sort of risky, dangerous task. Especially at Hogwarts where he would already be under suspicion from his peers.

“Come on, Harry, we’re going to be late for breakfast,” said Ron, yanking the curtains back on Harry’s bed.

“Do you think Malfoy’s up to something?” blurted Harry. Ron glanced down at the map in Harry’s hand.

“Honestly, when is Malfoy _not_ up to something?” Ron said. He sounded slightly resigned.

“All he’s doing is pacing his room,”

“Then why are you watching him?”

“No one else in Slytherin has come back this year. Why has he?”

“Look, Harry, maybe you should ask Hermione,” said Ron tiredly, dragging his hand through his hair, “I’m starving. Are you coming to breakfast or what?”

“Yeah, coming,” Harry mumbled, and whispered “Mischief managed,” before closing the map and putting it back in his trunk.

Harry and Ron made their way downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast, and spotted Hermione sitting next to Ginny. Harry and Ron walked over and sat opposite their girlfriends.

“Why are you two so late?” asked Ginny, reaching out to take Harry’s hand over the table. He glanced up at her, surprised at the sudden touch as she laced their fingers together. It felt sort of strange being with Ginny, despite having spent all summer at the Burrow in a relationship with her. It was still new, and Harry was getting used to it. They were still establishing their relationship slowly after everything they had both lost to the war. But they understood each other. Mostly.

“Harry was just…” said Ron, trailing off. He glanced at Harry, as though unsure whether to tell Hermione about Harry watching Malfoy on the map. Harry was confused. Why was Ron so reluctant to say anything?

“Yes?” Hermione pressed suspiciously, folding the _Daily Prophet_ and placing it in front of her. Harry caught a glimpse of his own face in a side-article, and winced slightly before looking up at Hermione.

“I was watching Malfoy on the map,” he explained.

“Oh?” said Hermione, sounding overly casual, “And what was he doing?”

“Just pacing,” Harry shook his head in frustration, “I don’t know why he’s come back this year. None of his friends have,”

“Perhaps he wanted to complete his education?” suggested Hermione reasonably.

“Or perhaps he wanted to make your life miserable one last time?” Ron piped up, before yelping. Harry suspected Hermione had kicked him under the table.

“He hasn’t confronted me,” Harry said slowly, “And when I tried to talk to him he was dismissive and seemed to want to get away as soon as possible,” Harry paused for a moment, before deciding to tell them, “I think he’s up to something,”

Hermione groaned suddenly, and Harry snapped his head up to look at her. “What?” he asked, bemused by her reaction.

“It’s just that you _always_ think Malfoy’s up to something,” Hermione said, sounding exasperated.

“He usually is!” Harry shot back defensively, pulling his hand away from Ginny so he could stab into his bacon angrily.

“Harry, listen, you became so obsessed with him in sixth year, thinking he was up to something-” Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

“Which he was!” Harry said, raising his voice so that a few others on the Gryffindor table glanced up at him.

“Yes, but you literally followed him around everywhere he went,” Hermione said softly, as though talking to a child having a temper tantrum. Harry didn’t really appreciate her patronising tone.

“Yeah, Harry,” Ginny said carefully, “Perhaps you should give the whole ‘Malfoy’ thing a break. Like you said, he hasn’t confronted you at all yet, so he should be easy enough to ignore,”

Harry grumbled incoherently.

“It’s alright, mate, if he does anything dodgy we can sort it out,” Ron said comfortingly, but Harry just shoved some bacon into his mouth and chewed angrily.

They didn’t understand. They never had, even back in sixth year. They hadn’t believed Harry when he’d told them Malfoy was the one trying to kill Dumbledore, they hadn’t paid attention when Harry had been suspicious because Malfoy kept disappearing from the map, and they didn’t believe him now, despite the overwhelming suspiciousness of Malfoy having returned to Hogwarts in the first place.

Of course, Harry didn’t have any solid proof that Malfoy was up to something, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was _off_ about him. The dead look in his eyes, the hollowness of his washed-out cheeks, the apathy with which he had spoken to Harry, not to mention having returned this year with no clear reason to… it just didn’t add up. Harry was determined to find out, but he didn’t know how to go about uncovering the truth. Harry’s gut told him something was wrong and that he should stay close to Malfoy whenever possible in an attempt to figure it out.

Harry glanced over to the Slytherin table and saw that Malfoy wasn’t there. It made Harry uneasy to not know where he was, but he told himself that he was probably still pacing in his room. He wished he had brought the Marauder’s Map with him, just so he could keep an eye on him.

He wondered what Malfoy was thinking about as he was pacing. Did Malfoy have nightmares like Harry did? Did he have flashbacks? Perhaps he felt no remorse for what he’d done during the war, or perhaps he was just trying to block it out completely.

Harry realised that he hadn’t thought about much else besides Malfoy since he had seen him sitting at the Slytherin table yesterday. Maybe Hermione was right, he _was_ becoming obsessed again, like in sixth year. Maybe he was being paranoid. But they were missing the point that he had been _right_ in sixth year. He had the same feeling in his gut now telling him to follow Malfoy and figure out which side he was on. It was just to be safe, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone to make certain.

The four of them finished breakfast and headed to their first lesson of the day, which happened to be Potions with Professor Slughorn. Harry knew he’d see Malfoy there, so he didn’t protest when Ginny grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him along the corridor.

They waited outside the Potions classroom together, and Harry tried to stop himself glancing around for Malfoy. He wasn’t here yet. When Slughorn arrived at the classroom and they all filed in and took their seats, Malfoy still hadn’t turned up. Harry felt angry for a moment. What was the point in coming back to school if you were just going to skive all your lessons? It just enhanced the suspicion that he was up to something.

It was a single lesson rather than a double, and so there was no practical today, which meant Slughorn simply talked and they took notes. After about five minutes, Harry heard the door to the classroom creak open, and he snapped his head up to see Malfoy.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” Malfoy apologised politely, leaving Harry feeling taken aback. When had Malfoy ever been _polite_ before? This was out of character for him.

“No worries, my boy, Professor McGonagall explained earlier,” Slughorn said. Explained what? Harry was desperate to know. Maybe he should ask Slughorn? “Take a seat,” he gestured to the seat at the front of the room, almost directly in front of Harry.

Harry stared at the back of Malfoy’s head as Slughorn continued his lecture, hoping that if he stared hard enough he might be able to see inside his head, or at least notice any strange movements Malfoy might make. But all Malfoy was doing was sitting there stiffly with his head down, taking notes.

“Harry?” he heard Slughorn say, and his head snapped up, “Do you have any idea?”

Harry had completely missed the question. “Uh… no, sorry, sir,” he apologised. Slughorn looked slightly disappointed, but continued talking. Harry knew he would no longer be Slughorn’s golden student anymore without the help of the Half-Blood Prince. It didn’t really bother Harry that he would no longer be as good at Potions as he had been in sixth year, but he did feel a little guilty about disappointing Slughorn.

Harry sighed in frustration, and Ginny must have heard because she nudged him and whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” murmured Harry, “Just thinking,”

“Right,” she replied. Harry couldn’t quite tell what tone of voice she was using because of the whispering. Was she angry at him? Harry couldn’t figure out why she would be. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

Eventually, Slughorn dismissed the class, and Harry noticed Malfoy was packing his things away slowly. Probably to avoid the crowd. Harry imitated his speed. When he saw Hermione, Ginny and Ron waiting for him, he told them to head to Transfiguration because he just wanted a quick word with Slughorn.

Hermione glanced warily over at Malfoy as though she knew Harry actually wanted to talk to him, but Ron and Ginny didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary so the three of them left the room.

Eventually it was just Harry, Malfoy and Slughorn left in the room, and that was when Malfoy decided to finally leave. Harry followed.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside him in the empty corridor. Malfoy glanced at him boredly.

“Still trying to be ‘friends’, Potter?” he asked.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Harry defensively, “It’s not like you’ve never wanted to be my friend,”

“What?” Malfoy shot at him.

“In first year on the train. You offered to be friends with me,”

“And, unless I am very much mistaken, you declined that offer,” Malfoy said, and Harry could have sworn he heard some bitterness seep into his voice.

“Is that why you’ve always hated me so much?” asked Harry.

“I never hated you, Potter, don’t flatter yourself,” he said, “You’re just very annoying,”

“Do you hex _everyone_ who annoys you, then?” asked Harry, “Because it seems to me as though you-”

“Potter,” Malfoy cut him off, “If you don’t shut up I’m going to hex _myself,_ which would be less painful than listening to you talk,”

“Why are you so defensive?” asked Harry. They were nearing the Transfiguration classroom now, so he didn’t have much time to think before he blurted out, “Are you up to something?”

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, and Harry turned to face him, watching as the taller boy folded his arms, “Is that what this is about?” he asked tiredly.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve come back this year!” Harry exclaimed, “It’s not as though any of your friends have come back with you,”

“You’ve always been so observant, Potter,” he spat. Harry decided to change tactics.

“I just know that if I were you, I wouldn’t be so quick to turn down someone who was offering their friendship,”

Malfoy snorted, “Friendship? Is that what you’re offering?” His voice was raising, filling with anger, “It sounds an awful lot like your accusing me of still being a Death Eater,”

“Well, are you?” yelled Harry. The words rang through the empty corridor, and Harry immediately realised they had been a mistake. Malfoy’s annoyed expression dissolved back into the stony neutral it had been before, and he unfolded his arms to hang at his sides stiffly.

“The Dark Lord is dead,” Malfoy stated, “And as for me, I’m just trying to get by,”

And with that, Malfoy strode down the corridor in the opposite direction of the Transfiguration classroom, away from Harry.

Harry stood there for a moment, struck dumb. This hadn’t been like the usual arguments he’d had with Malfoy before, where they ended up trying to hex and curse each other. This had been, in many ways, far more personal. Harry couldn’t help but feel as though he had invaded Malfoy’s privacy, and he felt immensely guilty. Strangely, the guilt didn’t make him want to stop trying. He still desperately wanted to figure out what Malfoy was up to.

Perhaps he could help save him.


	3. Distracted

Harry sat at the back of the Transfiguration classroom between Ron and Seamus. He felt anxious, and kept glancing over to the door in the hopes that Malfoy would come in, but no such luck. He really had been an idiot. Had he ruined everything with a few stupid comments?

The door swung open and in walked the new Professor. It was the strange looking man Harry couldn’t remember the name of who had been introduced before the Sorting Ceremony. He was dressed in light blue robes littered with darker blue stars, and he carried a box filled with what Harry assumed were textbooks. He had a spring in his step and a seemingly permanent smile on his flushed face, giving him the overall air of friendliness. Harry had only ever been taught Transfiguration by Professor McGonagall, who was stern and took no nonsense, and so was not sure what to expect from this excitable looking man.

“Good morning, class,” he said. His voice matched his appearance perfectly. It was slightly louder than necessary and overly expressive, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Professor Sloper, and I am very much looking forwards to teaching you all this year,” His eyes scanned the room greedily before coming to rest on Harry. Harry sighed as he watched his gaze flick up to his scar. “Well, if it isn’t Harry Potter!” he exclaimed, as though the entire class didn’t already know. “I have heard many great things about you,”

“And my friends, I’m sure,” said Harry bluntly, gesturing to Ron, Hermione and Seamus. He watched as Professor Sloper’s eyes drifted over them.

“Ah, yes, of course,” he said in a voice that told Harry he really couldn’t care less about his friends, “Anyway, I don’t want any of you to expect special treatment from me. After all, you only saved the entire wizarding world from evil. That’s not half as hard as a Transfiguration N.E.W.T!” he exclaimed before chuckling to the silent, unamused room.

Harry immediately took a dislike to this man. He was not only shallow, but also incredibly insensitive towards the possible effects the Wizarding War would have had on a room full of teenagers. Especially as everyone in this room had been thrown in the middle of it before most of them were legally adults. Harry was suddenly glad Malfoy wasn’t here, considering Sloper’s attitude. He probably would have given him a hard time for being a former Death Eater.

Once Sloper had handed out the books, the rest of the class passed in relative peace. In all honesty, he wasn’t a terrible teacher, and he explained things well. Harry could deal with that, as long as he didn’t make any more offhand jokes about the war that had ended barely four months ago.

When they were dismissed, Harry had to stop himself from running to find Malfoy and apologising to him. Ron and Hermione were right, he should give it a break. Malfoy was probably still cooling off.

They had a free period next, as did Ginny, and so they sat in the Great Hall and pulled out some parchment to begin the Potions essay Slughorn had set them about the properties of Flobberworm Mucus. Just the thought of it made Harry feel a little queasy, so he decided to try and casually bring up the conversation of Malfoy again.

“So, Malfoy wasn’t in Transfiguration just now,” Harry pointed out, trying to sound indifferent. Hermione, Ron and Ginny all sighed simultaneously. “What?!” Harry asked defensively, “It’s true!”

“You’re getting obsessed again, mate, and it hasn’t even been a day,” said Ron.

“I’m just saying,” Harry huffed, and paused for a moment to think, “Perhaps I should ask him about it,”

“Like he’d tell _you_ ,” snorted Ginny, “It’s not as though you’ve ever been friends,”

“And why would you even _want_ to be friends with him?” Ron agreed. Harry looked sulkily down at his parchment and wrote the title of his essay out. They still didn’t believe him.

“Are you gonna try out for Quidditch this year, Harry?” Ginny said after a moment of uneasy silence.

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” said Harry honestly, not looking up from his essay.

“Maybe it’ll be good for you,” Hermione chimed in, Harry looked up at her, surprised, “After all, it’s something you used to love and it might help you feel… well, normal again,”

Harry considered it. Perhaps it would be a good opportunity to get closer to Malfoy? Assuming he joined the Slytherin team, of course. Harry wasn’t sure whether he would. Maybe he should ask him? Malfoy was the only real competition Harry had ever had in Quidditch, so there wouldn’t be much point joining anyway if he would just be playing against some third year or something.

“We’d love to have you on the team, Harry,” said Ginny, before adding as an afterthought, “Oh, and you can try out too, Ron,”

“Thanks,” Ron said, rolling his eyes, “I feel really wanted,”

Even if Malfoy didn’t join the Slytherin team, perhaps Hermione was right. Quidditch might be good for him. It might help him feel normal again. He always felt at home on a broom, like it was the most natural thing in the world, so maybe it would help him get over the bitter taste the war had left him with. And there was always the possibility Malfoy might join too, and Harry could use that as an excuse to talk to him sometimes…

“Harry,” Ginny saying his name brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her vacantly.

“Sorry?”

Ginny sighed dramatically, “You weren’t listening, were you?”

“I was just wondering if Malfoy’s going to re-join the Slytherin team,” at the looks on their faces, Harry cried, “He might! And it’ll be a chance to get closer to him and figure out if he’s up to something,”

“Give it a rest,” Ginny whispered, probably not meaning for Harry to hear her. Harry was about to retort before Hermione piped up.

“Perhaps he will, Harry,” said Hermione, “But I don’t think that should be the only reason you join the team,”

“I suppose so,” Harry sighed, before going back to his essay.

Harry only saw Malfoy in passing the next few days. He wanted to stop and speak to him, but Malfoy had slipped away before he got the chance to say a word. He still had that same, dead look in his eyes from before, and Harry found himself growing more determined to get a reaction out of him every day.

Eventually the weekend came, and Harry still hadn’t had a chance to speak to Malfoy. He was getting frustrated, because he had skipped a fair few evenings worth of homework to watch him pace his room on the Marauder’s Map, and he still hadn’t made any progress. Malfoy never seemed to leave his room, except to go to lessons, and whenever Harry tried to catch him afterwards he seemed to disappear so quickly it made Harry question whether he’d ever been there at all.

On Sunday morning, Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room trying desperately to catch up with the homework he was already behind on. He wasn’t doing such a bad job, actually, he had done most of it (even if it was incredibly rushed and of a poor standard) and was just waiting for Hermione to get back from the library so that she could check through it.

“Hey,” Ginny greeted him, sitting herself down next to Harry on the sofa.

“Hey,” Harry replied, not looking up, “Sorry, but I just need to finish all this-”

“No, no, that’s fine,” said Ginny, “I was just hoping we could talk for a second? Then you can get back to it,”

“I really need to-”

“It’s important, Harry,” she said so urgently that Harry looked up at her worriedly.

“What is it?” he asked, his mind jumping around. Perhaps she’d figured out something about Malfoy? “Is it about Malfoy?”

“No,” said Ginny shaking her head, and Harry relaxed a little, “Well, sort of. Maybe,”

“What is it?”

“It’s just that you’ve been acting distant lately,” she confessed, looking down at her hands as she fidgeted, “I was wondering… I don’t know,”

“I have?” Harry asked, slightly surprised, “It’s probably just because we’re back here and I have so much work,”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ginny nodded, still not looking at him.

“Why would that be about Malfoy?” he asked.

Ginny shrugged, “I dunno,” she said, avoiding looking at him. Harry gently lifted her chin with his hand so he could look into her eyes.

“I still like you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He _did_ still like her, after all. He just had other things on his mind.

“We haven’t done anything together in a while,” she said sadly.

“Well, when there’s a Hogsmeade weekend, we can go together?” Harry suggested.

“That would be nice, but it’s not what I meant,” she said. Harry looked at her, confused, and she sighed. “Sex, Harry,”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “I… uh, well, we’re in school? Wouldn’t it be weird?”

“It wasn’t weird when we did it in Ron’s bed,” she said, smiling cheekily at him. All of a sudden, Harry felt a little nauseous. Ginny had always been the one to initiate sex between them, and it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it or anything. It’s just that he felt as though it meant a lot more to her than it did to him. Of course he liked her, but she’d been crushing on him for… what, seven years? He didn’t want to disappoint her, and he didn’t want to use her without even realising. It felt good when they did it, of course, but he didn’t get the thrill out of it that he would have expected.

“We… uh, there’s not really anywhere to do it though, is there?”

“There’s the Room of Requirement,” she suggested, “And there are always empty classrooms,”

“Ginny, I just… I don’t really feel comfortable with that,” there was an awkward silence, and both of them looked down.

“Okay,” she said in a small voice, “Well, just let me know if you wanted to like… kiss me or anything,” She jumped up and hurried to the girls’ dorms. Harry stared after her in confusion. In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed Ginny.

Oh well. That didn’t matter now. He had more pressing things to think about than kissing Ginny. Like whether or not Malfoy was up to something. Harry put his homework into his bag. It didn’t really matter whether Hermione checked it. It was only the first week. He would do better next time.

He went up to his dorm to see Seamus sitting cross legged on his bed, writing something on some parchment, a look of concentration on his face.

“Essay?” Harry asked, dumping his stuff on his bed.

“Nope,” he shook his head, “Letter to Dean,”

“Oh, right,” Harry replied, “How is he getting on?”

“He’s doing well, I think. That’s what he says anyway. I miss him though,”

“You guys are close, huh,” Harry said distractedly, grabbing a copy of this week’s _Which Broomstick_ and throwing himself on his bed.

“Uh… yeah?” Seamus said, as though he was uncertain about it. Harry looked up to see Seamus looking at him confusedly.

“What is it?” asked Harry.

“I… he’s my boyfriend,” said Seamus. Harry’s mouth fell open in shock. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” said Harry slowly, “I had no idea,”

“We’ve been together a year,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I figured you already knew,” he shrugged.

“So… you’re gay then?” asked Harry carefully, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing.

“Yeah,” nodded Seamus.

“And… Dean is too?”

“No, he’s bi,” said Seamus, watching Harry carefully.

“Oh, well… uh, congratulations,” said Harry. How had he not noticed two of his friends getting into a relationship? It just… it didn’t seem like the sort of thing someone could miss. Perhaps Harry was just incredibly unobservant and wasn’t paying enough attention to his friends.

“Thanks,” said Seamus, grinning and going back to writing his letter to Dean.

Harry stared at Seamus for a few more moments. If he really was that unobservant, and hadn’t noticed something like _that_ , how the hell was he supposed to spot when Malfoy was up to something? If he missed tiny details, or even huge, glaring things like the fact _Seamus was gay,_ how the hell could he trust himself?

He needed Hermione. He knew he did, and perhaps he should ask her about the Malfoy thing again. She had been the one who had shown the least annoyance at his constant babble about Malfoy, so maybe she would be willing to help him figure it out.

Harry realised he needed to start focussing all his attention on Malfoy so he wouldn’t miss the details of what he was doing. He needed to speak to him again, too, and try and get on good terms so he didn’t suspect anything. Harry was just trying to figure him out. He wanted to know where his loyalties were, because for all Harry knew, he could still be doing the Dark Lord’s work. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

It was important to figure it out. He felt it in his gut.


End file.
